


Redacted

by timidphantom



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, More tags later, extra chapter, more of Gaster being Terrible
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 19:10:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8114104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timidphantom/pseuds/timidphantom
Summary: Chapter(s) that didn't make it into the official Gastertale fic.





	

The biting cold of Snowdin nighttime swept over the town, boasting its frigid reign while the CORE’s cycle would allow it. Through the natural Underground darkness, a lone figure trudged, burdened by a bundle of bones weakened and shivering. As he passed dark houses, Royal Scientist W.D. Gaster did not falter until he reached the porch of the home he had once called his own, where he paused to gaze into the warm incandescent glow from the front window.

Numbed far past the point of needing to brace himself, Gaster ascended the stairs of the porch and summoned a magical hand to open the door, careful not to jostle his precious burden in the process. When he crept in, stepping lightly like a thief in his own home, he heard stirring from upstairs almost immediately.

Hastening, the tall skeleton kicked his shoes off onto the mat and, with his breath rushing in his windpipe, crossed the room to lay the unconscious monster in his arms onto the couch as gingerly as possible.Then, he pulled the knit blanket spread over the back over the boy’s shivering body, turning around just in time to hear feet falling at the top of the stairs.

Before he could turn and stop the advancing monster from descending the stairs, she was already climbing down, her sockets alight with fiery orange caution. Seeing Gaster, though, her expression simmered down to a warm burn and her pace slowed, smiling. Halfway down, her eyes focused suddenly on the slumped figure lying on the couch.

Freezing midstep, her caution redoubled and she turned on Gaster, accusatory. “What is  _ this? _ ” she demanded, skipping down the remainder of the stairs with swift grace and waltzing across the room in two long strides, kneeling next to the skeleton on the couch to inspect him more closely.

“I spotted him on my way from Grillby’s, lying unconscious in the snow,” the scientist explained in a voice taut with feigned concern,  watching as the woman tucked the blanket more tightly around the boy, her eyes full of maternal care.

Though it was left unspoken - not even a bush around the topic beaten - the implication that Gaster so often drank the nights away at Grillby’s and took the long trip past this home to his Lab felt all too clear. And why?

So that he would not have to share a bed with the skeleton he’d fathered a child with? So that he wouldn’t have to feel her eyes when she passed by his sleeping figure on the couch to warm a bottle for the crying baby bones upstairs?

“Will he be okay?” the skeletal woman asked from where she stooped over Sans, eyes filled with concern that remained in place as she looked to the scientist for an answer.

“I believe so,” Gaster responded numbly, staring away. “He has suffered a small degree of hypothermia, but he should wake up shortly and recover without any complications. Then, we can worry about getting him home…”

Rather than responding directly to the conversation, Portulaca turned her back to Gaster once more, gazing down at the unconscious skeleton. “Poor boy… What if he’s an orphan from the war? He’s about the right age,” the woman mused, thoughtfully running a fingertip along the spiderleg-like fractures lining the outer corner of one of her sockets. “Perhaps he has nowhere else to go?”

Without warning, emotional pain twisted into Gaster’s abdomen as he realized the topic that Portulaca was dancing around: that the boy could simply stay here, with her. 

If she wanted to take in the strange skeleton, she would, regardless of Gaster’s opinion. But it didn’t matter now. If he could turn back time and dig deep for compassion and kindness, then maybe… but no. It didn’t matter now.

Taking note of Gaster’s complete silence on the topic, Portulaca turned back to him to gaze up at him hopefully. “Well… since you’re here, you could look in on Papyrus,” she suggested, smiling weakly. “I just got him to sleep an hour ago, but… well, once he’s out, he’s out. You won’t have to worry about waking him up.”

On some level, piercing through the veil of indifference he’d donned, it occurred to Gaster that this was almost certainly his last opportunity to see his son; this alone halted his immediate refusal. 

A flicker of emotion passed across Portulaca’s face at his hesitation; looking away, the scientist started up the stairs, wondering: what had that feeling shown all too plainly on her face been?

...Hope? How naive. 

Stepping lightly, Gaster moved to hover outside the nursery, peering in. The quiet and warmth beckoned and he stepped fully into the room, crossing to the side of the crib to gaze downwards into it.

Fast asleep, as his mother had said. Unsure of what to do, Gaster reached a hand to gently nudge the race car mobile hanging over the crib into motion. He watched it spin in the darkness for awhile, allowing memories to wash over him, if only for an instant.

“He won’t even know what those are, Aster!” he remembered her giggling, watching him trudge through layers of watery garbage, brandishing the mobile above him like a flag of triumph. “Look at it! There’s a reason it ended up in the dump!” she had lamented as she turned the chipped figures in her hands, sadly.

“I will make it as good as new, Portie,” he’d reassured her, closing his sockets as she touched her mouth sweetly to his forehead from her perch on a trash pile. 

“Of course, my dear, I don’t doubt that. You’re the Great Gaster, after all, you can handle a little bit of nursery refurbishing.”

Pulling himself back to reality, Gaster opened his sockets to chase away the images that had jerked into focus suddenly. “You are going to be great, Papyrus,” he whispered down to the sleeping bundle of bones. “The Great Papyrus. That has an excellent ring to it, yes?”

Unexpectedly, his chest cavity began to burn with pain. This infant would never know him - not as a father, nor otherwise; he was safe from the sins that clawed their way up the Royal Scientist’s spine. So long as he did not falter. So long as he could go through with this plan. Moments earlier, before he had passed into the nursery, he had felt so certain, but now…

“Should I put coffee on?” the voice appeared from behind suddenly, causing Gaster to startle and nearly bump into the crib.

Hesitantly, Gaster turned around to face the other skeleton in the doorway. Was that her way of asking if she was staying awhile, or asking if he needed something to sober up before the walk home? But it didn’t matter either way.

Moving swiftly, the scientist crossed the room back to the door, closing his hand around Portulaca’s arm and pushing her back against the wall outside the nursery, though his movements were careful, nearly gentle.

“I need you to come to the Lab with me,” he said in a low tone, meeting her gaze with a serious, albeit somewhat blank, expression. “It is an urgent matter and cannot wait until morning.”

Pulling her humerus away from his grasp, Portulaca narrowed her sockets slightly, meeting Gaster’s stare bravely. “Do not be ridiculous, Aster. I am not following you out into the cold in the dead of the night while Papyrus is sleeping! Nor at any other time! Our bond is withered, and I hold no trust for you in my soul any longer. Why would I, when there is no love for me in yours?”

The Royal Scientist’s sockets went dark at these words and a laugh rattled deep in his windpipe. “Oh, Portulaca… You are so very clever, as always,” his voice was almost sensual as he spoke, his hand flashing upwards to grasp around her mandible, smothering whatever her next words would have been.

“But you never did know much about my LOVE, did you?”

**Author's Note:**

> There won't be any sort of upload schedule for these, nor are they going to be in chronological order, but I will indicate when it takes place during the events of the fic. Probably.
> 
> (Actually, I don't know if there'll even be more of these, but! I think I might have 1 or 2 planned. Maybe.)


End file.
